


Living in the Moment

by TrishaCollins



Series: The Long Road [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A guest spot in the Apocalypse, Being resurrected is not a great thing, Campbell Detective Agency, F/M, Lying Demons Lie, Mary Speaking, Sometimes the baggage you thought you left behind is all you have left, Visiting your own grave, filling in the blanks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8301719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: Being resurrected is not a great thing. All she has to fall back on is what she's learned.
Well, that and the family business.





	

She could smell blood in the air, and still feel the fire on her skin, the heat of it. She arched off the hard surface she was sprawled on, clawing at her skin, trying to put the flames out. 

There was laughter above her, and reflexively she rolled, kicking out, curling her body inwards. She couldn’t see in the darkness, not with the lingering fire in her eyes. She hit something; she felt the flesh under her foot. 

“There now, Mary. There’s no need to do that to an old friend.” A voice said, somewhere in the darkness. 

Her gown was wet with something, blood she assumed from the tacky fluid under her hand. 

“Who are you? Where am I?” Someone screamed from further to her left, and she turned her head in that direction.

A light flashed on, and she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut to try to preserve her vision. 

A hand caught her chin, and blindly she struck out again, only to be flicked to a floor that was also slick. She rolled, getting her feet under her, and tried to orient herself towards him. 

She had no weapons. She was alone. 

He hit her with the light again and she ducked her head, covering her face with her arm.

“Get her out of here, I’ll deal with the other woman.” 

Other woman? She uncoiled herself, keeping herself in a ready position that felt as comfortable as walking. She blinked her eyes, trying to get them to focus, only to get grabbed from behind.

She twisted; aiming her shot blindly for the center mass, and was rewarded by an irritated “woof” of expelled air before they twisted her to the ground. 

She twisted, she bit, but it was all useless, she was half blind and had no weapons. Someone punched her in the face, and the darkness became complete.

***

She woke in chains. Which honestly, she was expecting that. 

She was alone in the room, hands and feet chained to the wall, wearing the same blood covered nightgown she was sure she had woken up in, though the blood had dried and it was stuck to her in places. It itched. 

It seemed like a petty complaint, but it did, and that irritated her on top of everything else. The chains were solid, and she had nothing to pick the locks with, as much as she hated it she had nothing but what she was wearing. Fighting against the iron would only make her tired. 

She leaned her back against the wall, stretching her legs out as far as they would go on the narrow cot and removing as much of the blood stained fabric from her skin as she could. There was a slash across her stomach, and she grimaced as she checked the skin beneath it.

It was smooth, not even a raised mark on her skin. But she remembered the cut, and the blood, and the flames. 

“Lovely, they have a sense of humor.” She muttered under her breath, leaning her head back against the wall and staring up at the light. 

She expected they would be in shortly, that was how these things always worked themselves out. 

They weren’t. Hours passed, she drank water from the metal sink, she washed herself up as best she could, and she slept.

There really wasn’t anything else to do. 

She started getting hungry, but she tried to drink more water and ignoring it. After a few days, the hunger was all she could think about. Her head ached with it, her stomach stopped feeling it at all. She slept more, drifting.

That was when he came, holding a tray in one hand and a chair in the other hand. 

He sat the tray down on the end of her bed, and then sat down on the chair. “So sorry, Mary. I told them to look after you while I was dealing with other matters.”

She stared at him, trying not to look at the food. “What do you want? Our deal is done.”

He smiled. “I apologize for your death, I did not realize how important you would be.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “I’m not inclined to accept.”

He spread his hands. “I thought we could make another deal, you and I.” 

“Not a chance. Where are my boys?”

He laughed, spreading his hands out. “Oh yes, you have been out. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, Mary. But your boys are dead. I thought little Sammy would be the one I needed, but your husband-well, he thought he could find me. Took them into a hunters life. They lived for a few years after your death, and then a pair of shtriga demons found them.” 

She shook her head. “No.”

“It was then that I realized how foolish and hasty I had been.” He gave her a look of pretend sympathy. “We used their blood to bring you back.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes as though it could block him out. “No, you’re lying.”

“I’m very sorry, Mary. But, well. John learned, he’s moved on. A new wife, a new family. Two children, a little boy named Adam and a darling girl named Gabby. Delightful, really.” His voice was like poison, slipping into her ears. “So sad that the same can’t be said for your boys. You should eat up, Mary. We need you, the world needs you.” He stood, picking up the chair. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

She wanted to be strong enough to throw the food to the floor once he left; she wanted to have that strength. 

But she was weak, human, and she ate every bit, licking the plate clean. 

***

The demon liked to talk, liked to hear the sound of his own voice. The next time he came, he brought her soap and a change of clothes, and removed the heavy shackles from her feet and wrists. 

“We’ll let you have a proper shower in a few days, but you’ll understand if we’re not quick to trust you.” He said, cheerful. 

She sneered at him, but stripped off the filthy nightgown, kicking it to the floor without waiting for him to turn around. She refused to let him see anything that even approached embarrassment, dressing herself. Nothing fit properly, but she didn’t care. It was clothing, and it was clean. She rolled up the sleeves on the shirt, and then turned to look at him. “Am I supposed to be concerned about your trust of me?” 

He laughed. “Well, if we could let you out of your cage without a leash, you would have more freedoms.”

“I don’t want you freedom. I want nothing to do with you.” She held her arms out. “Better put my jewelry back on.”

He twisted the chains in his hands. “You know this could be much easier for you.”

“You’ve met me.” She responded, narrowing her eyes. “Whatever you want from me, you’re not going to get it easy.”

He sighed, shaking his head, and stood. “I really wish you would work with me, Mary.” 

“I really wish you would go back to hell. So it looks like neither of us is getting what we want.” She crossed her arms when he made no move to chain her again. “I want proof.”

He swung the chains. “Proof?”

“You said my boys are dead, you said John left. I want proof of that.” She gave him a dirty look. “You think I’ll just take your word?”

He laughed. “Proof I can give you, Mary. Proof I will get you.” He strolled casually out of the cell. 

She watched him go, and looked down at the tray of food he had left behind. 

In a strange way, she was starting to look forward to his visits. The cell was grey, there was nothing to occupy her mind. 

Azazel provided a target for her rage, and place to rest her mind that wasn’t solidly closed in this strange cube. The door was a solid plane of metal, unyielding and impossible to get out of. 

God, she was starting to look forward to the presence of a demon. She really was going crazy. 

She picked up the tray, focusing on the hatred as she ate the food provided. 

If she could keep a hold of it, then he couldn’t wiggle his way into her. That’s all she had to do.

***

She was on her 50th pushup when he came back, a tray and a small bundle of papers in his hand. 

He paused in the doorway to watch her appreciatively, making no comment. 

She continued with the pushups, looking past him into the hall like a starving man might gaze at salvation. Beyond her grey cell, the world had color. Rust and red and brown, predominantly, but color. She drank up the view of the dingy warehouse, catching sight of a high, dirty window that was filled with daylight. 

She must have slowed, or he noticed her looking, because he shut the door and patted it. “Keeping yourself in shape, I see. Good.”

She said nothing, forcing her body to continue. Letting the bastard of a demon know how long she had let such a simple thing as remaining ready slide to the wayside was all of the motivation she needed to ignore her screaming muscles. 

“I brought you some reading materials, and your dinner.” He picked up the other tray, and sat the new one down; tucking the one she had licked clean under his arm.

They fed her too infrequently for pride. She was not willing to leave a single scrap of food for something as stupid as her pride. 

“No thank you? No hello? Oh Mary, I’m hurt.” He mocked gently.

She kept going, focusing on breathing and ignoring him. 

“Well, perhaps tomorrow.” He said airily. “Eventually, we should talk of the deal I have to offer you.”

She kept ignoring him, keeping her eyes focused past him on the door. 

When he opened it, she might see the sunlight again, might have another small reminder of the world that lived beyond her cube. 

She might have something so small to cling to. 

She really was losing her mind. 

“I hope you enjoy the materials I brought, let me know if you need anything further.” The door opened behind him, and he stepped out, still watching her. 

She was watching the window, and the dirty light it spilled over the floor. 

It wouldn’t be so far to go, if she could just get out of the cell. 

She waited until she was sure he was gone, and slowly eased herself to the floor, closing her eyes for a long moment before she picked up the bundle of papers.

It was mostly newspaper clippings, a few photographs, one of her boys and John sitting on the Impala, one of Dean with his arm around Sammy. One of them in hospital beds, eyes sunken and dark. 

Dean’s hair had gotten darker as he’d gotten older. She touched his face, and then Sammy’s, looking at her boys.

They had grown up. Sam’s little head was covered in dark, curly hair. Dean’s was shorter, but just as dark. She let herself take a few moments to see her little boys, to know them. To love them, just for a few moments. 

Then she carefully set them aside. 

She read through the articles, leaning against the back of the wall, trying not to let the words impact her. This was just like any hunt; she had to gain as much information as she could.

The bodies involved could not be anymore important to her than any other case. They had died; she couldn’t let that blind her to the case. Or more would die. 

She knew how to be a hunter; she couldn’t do anything about the fact that she was no longer a mother. Azazel had planned for this to break her, and she couldn’t let it.

This was a case, and she needed to pick up the trail. She needed to hunt it, and kill it, and put it to rest.

She folded up the little bundle, tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans. Then she made herself eat with the exact same vigor she had approached every other meal here with, sure she was being watched.   
***

He brought friends the next time. Two tall, looming men who were solidly built.

“More guests?” She said, not bothering to get out of the bed. 

“I thought I would bring a few friends to meet you, Mary.” He replied airily. “I thought you might enjoy a shower.” 

“Oh you know, tepid water from the sink is doing me just fine.” Couldn’t let him see how much she wanted it. Couldn’t let him know how much she wanted out of the cage of this cell. 

“Now, Mary, don’t be like that.” He snapped his fingers, and the two bruisers stepped forward. “We can do this the easy way.”

She watched him for another moment, then unfolded herself from the bed, bare feet on concrete. “I think you’ve heard of my family. Have we ever taken the easy way?”

He laughed. “No, of course not.” He extended his hand. “Should we go?”

“I’ll need some clean clothes, or a shower won’t do me much good.” She had the photos and the newspaper clippings shoved in the pocket, there was nothing in the cell she couldn’t leave behind. 

“Of course, those have been provided.” He wiggled his fingers at her. 

She ignored the hand, walking past him and the goons, into the hall. It was night, there was no sunlight pouring in the dirty windows. She wanted it, but she knew she couldn’t have it. 

They surrounded her, and she walked as though it didn’t matter, pushing down the whispers of desire. For air, for light, for space that wasn’t the twelve by twelve confines of her cell. 

They marched her to the door, and she followed without objection, only allowing herself one brief, deep breath as they stepped outside. 

They pushed her into the back of a van, one goon on either side of her, another person driving. 

She closed her eyes, thinking. If she could turn this situation to her advantage, she could get away. If she waited until they got to their location of choice, she might not have the chance to do so. 

She let her eyes close, and drew a long, deep breath. 

“Now, Mary. Don’t think we are going to lower our guards just because you are pretending to fall asleep.” Azazel chided from the front of the car.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked lazily. 

“You will see when we get there.” Azazel responded.

She kept her eyes closed, listening and letting her breathing fall into a relaxed, deep pattern. She just had to stay ready, stay alert, and find the gape in the pattern. 

Demons were shitheads, but they tended to be overconfident. She just had to wait. 

***

Her chance didn’t come that first night. It didn’t come in the weeks that followed, though she ate more greasy diner food than she had in years. They let her shower, occasionally, but most of her time was spent in the back of the van, with an idiot on either side of her. 

She didn’t take the pictures out of her pocket, she didn’t even touch them unless she was switching them to a new pair of pants. But she knew they were there, the traces of her boys, the traces of the hunt she had to take on. 

She just needed to get away to start it, to put all the pieces together and take revenge for her boys. 

She could make sure nobody else died. 

It gave her something to think about, something to focus her energies into. Something that wasn’t the regular banter with the demon that had raised her from the dead, for reasons he had not yet revealed. 

She spun the salt shaker on the table, watching Azazel chat with the barman, watching Goon try to shift away from her without seeming to. 

She’d thrown salt in his eyes last week, Azazel had dropped her before she was able to do much more than that, but it was worth it for the attempt. 

Every little flinch was an opening she might be able to exploit. 

“Put that down.” Goon 2 told her. 

She smiled, giving it another spin. “Am I making you nervous?”

His body language said yes, his scowl was trying to tell her no. 

She kept smiling, and then put the salt into her pocket, making sure he saw her do it. 

A drunk staggered over to the table, flopping against her shoulder, hand slithering down her shirt. “Hey baby, you’re sure sexy, how about you come dance with me?” 

Goon stood up, grabbed his shoulder and started to throw him back.

She caught the hint of a smile on the drunk’s face, just before he loudly started proclaiming that “The asshole was keeping him from the girl and he wouldn’t stand for it. 

Goon 2 stood up to help his fellow, and she caught the knife he had slipped under her shirt before either of them saw it, slipping it into the front of her bra and sliding out of the booth. 

He was still drawing their attention, making an utter ass of himself, swinging a bottle around that she dearly hoped was holy water. 

He winked at her, and she bolted for the bathroom, salt shaker banging against her hip as she ran past it. 

Driver goon was sitting in the car; she hung low, looking for whatever junker Nick was probably running in if he was here. 

Someone yowled in the bar, but she just slipped further into the darkness. 

“Have a devils trap set up for the love of god and all his blessed angels, you fool. Please tell me you do.” She found the car, knew it by the little devil’s traps he’d carved into the handles. 

Tacky, but effective. Damn, Nick. The doors weren’t locked; she climbed inside and hit the lock button, hiding in the floorboards while she knew the demons were looking for her. She pondered the logistics of crawling into the trunk to hide against the perils of whatever Nick probably had on the trunk.

He didn’t show up for two hours, and by then her legs had fallen asleep entirely and she was on the verge of falling asleep herself. 

“Hey, Mary girl. You going to tell me why you were running with a couple demons?” He asked, once he’d settled into the driver’s seat and locked the doors again.

She hit him as hard as she could in the thigh. “You’re a jackass and an idiot.”

“Ouch. No “Thanks, Cuz, glad you saved my ass”?” He gave her a wounded look, but started the car. “No ‘Hey I got myself in some trouble and faked my death to shake it off, but got in over my head’. There’s no gratitude in this world. Save someone from immediate peril, and they’ll still throw a punch.”

She yawned. “I’m tired, shut up. I’ll explain everything later; just get us out of here.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re bossy as hell, Mary.” He checked his mirrors before he threw the car into reverse, squealing tires and heading out of there like he was drunk.

She hoped he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be the first time he got pulled over for a fucking DUI when he was just acting drunk. 

“You don’t know when to shut your face, Nick.” She muttered, trying to watch behind them without poking her head up. “You fight them?”

“Nah, they noticed you take off and they chased you. I had a few more drinks, they came back in after awhile, that boss man of theirs looked pissed. Waited till I’d seen them leave before I came looking, knew if it was really you that you’d know how to find my car.” 

“Good.” She rubbed her face, and he passed her a flask. “Holy water?”

“Them were Demons, Mary, and you’re meant to be dead and ash nine years ago.” He told her calmly, not taking his eyes off the road. “Drink up, little darling.” 

She sighed, but obediently drained the flask. She was thirsty enough that it wasn’t hard to do. She handed it back and took the silver blade as a matter of route, holding up her hand so he could see it without risking their lives while she cut it. “Satisfied?”

“Not hardly, sweetheart. I got a dozen more tests to run on you when we get to one of the safe houses. But it’ll do for now.” He dropped his scarf on her. “Get some sleep till we’re there.” 

***

She slept, curled up on the floor of Nick’s car, until he arrived at the safe house he had picked for them tonight.

He woke her up, shaking her shoulder a little, and she uncurled, squinting up at him blearily. 

“Hey. We’re here. Get up.”

She yawned and stretched as much as she could in her little huddle. The papers crackled in her pocket as she crawled out of it, legs stiff from being curled up for so long. “Where are we?”

“Montana. The safe house there.” Nick offered her an arm, gently helping her along. “We keep it stocked.”

She nodded, not asking anymore questions as he disarmed it and walked her inside. 

She walked through the devil’s trap without pausing, emptying her pockets and bending over the basin to wash her face and hands. 

He handed her a beer, already salted, and she drank it.

“You working a hunt with those demons?” He asked, poking through the papers. 

“No, but I have one once I’m verified. Something killed my boys, Nick.” She sat down the bottle, sitting down on the edge of the table. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I knew John took off with the boys. What got em?” Nick was dusting her hands with iron shavings while he was talking. 

“Shtriga, you know how they work through families?” 

He grimaced. “Shit. I heard about that. So you’ve got a mind to hunt it?”

She nodded. “I intend to, before it has a chance to set up another nest.”

“Well, good to know you’re still in the game. We wondered, you know?” He picked up a book, lazily reading off an exorcism. 

She sat through it calmly, slipping down from the table when he finished. “I didn’t wanna be. I wanted to leave it. I wanted my boys to have a chance at something else. Guess it just wasn’t in the cards.”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

She smiled at him. “Maybe you aren’t so useless.”

“Gee, Mary, you keep getting so mushy and we might have to go through this all again.” But he gave her a hug, squeezing her a little. “Sleep.”

She shoved gently at his shoulder. “Asshole.”

“Yeah yeah. I know.” He grinned, leaving her side to go check the protections. 

She watched him go, picking up the papers and pictures, folding them up into a careful bundle and tucking them back into her pocket. 

Nick thought she had just faked her death; she wouldn’t be the first one to do it. She wasn’t sure how to explain that she had actually died. 

“You still awake? Why’d you decide to pull an Aunt Linda anyway?” He asked, picking up another beer, twisting off the top and casually offering it. 

“Aunt Linda sheds her identity every six months to get creditors off her back; she’s not even actively hunting.” She objected. “It’s more like Great Uncle Lawrence.” She took the beer, letting the alcohol dull her senses a little. “Vanish for most of a decade, come back and pick up where you left off.”

He shook his head, laughing and getting himself a beer, flopping down on the well-worn couch. “Man, you held out for like fifteen more days and you’d have the family record.” 

She sat down next to him, closing her eyes. “I wasn’t exactly keeping that in mind. Hey you remember the time we had to call Aunt Linda “Eugene” for like seven months?”

Nick laughed. “Sure do. And then Uncle Pat kept calling her “Useless”, and she’d never catch him at it because her hearing was going.” 

She laughed, and took another swig of her beer. “Our family is nuts.”

“Yeah, but nuts like us wouldn’t fit anywhere else.” He chuckled.

“True that.” They tapped the beers, and both took long drinks from their beers. 

Nick was quiet, relaxed, more restful company that she remembered him being when he was younger. “You’re not going to sleep, huh?”

“I’ve been in cold storage for the past however long. Last thing I want to do is sleep.” She grumbled, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

“Hey, you going hunting, we need you sharp.” He nudged her with his foot. “Get a few hours at least, I’ll make some calls, get a few friends to help with things.”

She smiled at him, folding her arm under her head. “Been hunting?”

“Eh, keeping my eyes open mostly. I’m not as driven as your father, was just luck that I even saw you with those demons. Would have figured that you would be more keen to hunt them down.” 

She shook her head. “Not yet. Need more time to prepare for that.” 

“Alright.” He finished off his beer. “Get some rest.”

“I will. Thanks, Nick.”


End file.
